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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29199399">Where there is cake, there is hope. (And there is always cake.)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/3x3/pseuds/3x3'>3x3</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAEGI I LOVE YOU, Light Angst, i actually didn't mean for that to happen so uh;; sorry?, i love character celebrations so much because there's so much new food!!, it gets a lil gay at the very end because everything i write turns a lil gay somehow, mostly just friendships all around though, thank you kodaka for naegi i love him</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:47:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29199399</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/3x3/pseuds/3x3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Naegi's birthday celebrations: In four parts<br/>Featuring a good amount of cakes and lots of friends.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Class 78 &amp; Naegi Makoto, Hinata Hajime &amp; Naegi Makoto, Naegi Komaru &amp; Naegi Makoto, Naegi Makoto &amp; Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Where there is cake, there is hope. (And there is always cake.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy birthdaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy naegiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii i've known you for mere months but you have made such a huge impact on my emotional wellbeing in the best way possible &lt;3<br/>Honestly, I spent so much time being conflicted over this story. Writing and rewriting and changing parts around, but I just couldn't get myself feeling completely satisfied with it. But well, this still contains all my love and sincerity, and I think that's enough.<br/>This is my birthday present for him.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This is the first time Makoto’s ever had alcohol, and although he’s not entirely sure of his age, he is for sure, of age.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Age is kind of difficult after the whole memory loss deal.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinks</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s the first time. (Again, memory loss.) He has no idea what went on in the gaps of his time, whether he secretly had alcohol when he wasn’t twenty yet, but he would like to believe that his parents raised him better than that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unless in his gaps he has somehow transformed into a completely different person, he thinks it should be fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His nose scrunches up at the bitter taste. Heat shoots up his neck and bundles underneath the skin of his cheeks. Oh, it’s a strange feeling. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>umeshu </span>
  </em>
  <span>is cool when it slides down his throat in a slow trickle, but Makoto is feeling anything but cool.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So? What do you think?” Hagakure-kun prompts excitedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the majority of them, this is the first time trying alcohol. Except for Hagakure-kun, who is long twenty, because despite being classmates, he was held back a few times. Or perhaps except for Togami-kun as well, who has done many things that normal teenagers aren’t allowed to do with a single drop of his family name. Or perhaps except for Kirigiri-san on top of that, who seems to know about everything because of her status as a detective.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s sweeter than I thought it would be.” Makoto answers honestly. “I think it’s good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve had better.” Togami-kun and Kirigiri-san say at the exact same time. There it is. Sometimes it’s a little eerie how they resemble each other in specific places when they generally share a one-sided distaste on Togami-kun’s end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alright, so maybe only for a half of them, this is the first time trying alcohol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it supposed to be this spicy?” Asahina-san frowns as she studies her cup quizzically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s n-not </span>
  <em>
    <span>spicy.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Fukawa-san sneers. “It’s a mature flavor meant to entice tasteful tongues. Something a child like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> wouldn’t know anything about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Asahina-san rolls her eyes. “We’re the same age, Fukawa-chan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maturity comes from within, you dimwit!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You act as if this isn’t your first time drinking as well.” Asahina-san sticks her tongue out at Fukawa-san, which probably doesn’t help much for her case, but Makoto supposes it would shun her target for a good while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“T-That’s-!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kirigiri-san raises up her glass before the dispute could grow any bigger. “Happy birthday, Naegi-kun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” he startles, “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles. He’s another year older, but it feels more like three. Makoto can’t change that he feels old, so he hopes instead, that it’s in a good way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy birthday.” Everyone else echoes. Glasses are being raised all around in a disorderly fashion. They are a mismatched bunch and maybe the alcohol in his system is amplifying his emotions because suddenly Makoto feels himself tearing up a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hasn’t been easy for them at all, to get here today. They survived misfortune after misfortune, were forced to bid friend after friend farewell. It was awful, and on more than one occasion, the urge to give in got disturbingly strong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But if there’s one good thing to come out of the nightmare, it’s the bond that’s formed between the six of them survivors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wouldn’t have been possible for Makoto to stand here today if not for his friends. He is so, so grateful for them all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a cheesy sentiment that would no doubt be met with outward indifference by most of the present company, but he says it out loud anyway. He wants them to know how much he appreciates every single one of them, emotionally constipated or not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As expected, Asahina-san and Hagakure-kun are the only two who look outright touched. But there is a tiny smile on Kirigiri-san’s face, and a subtle redness on Fukawa-san’s cheekbones. Togami-kun clicks his tongue, and it’s a good thing that Makoto is familiar with him enough to tell that it isn’t annoyed in the slightest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Having half the people in your friend group be tsundere really makes one well-versed in their tells.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sorry we can't throw you a fancier party." Asahina-san says, tapping her fingers on her glass absent-mindedly. "But we got you cake!" She raises the plastic bag to her right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's a simple chocolate cake with chips sprinkled on top. Everyone stares and watches him take the first bite. The chips are a little soggy and the chocolate powder tickles his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well?” Asahina-san urges.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Back then, I could’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>easily</span>
  </em>
  <span> gotten him something </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span> better.” Togami-kun mutters under his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it's not the best cake he's ever had, but it comes close.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>Birthdays were a huge event back in the Naegi household.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cakes were a must, of course, and so were presents. What was most important though, was quality time. No matter how busy they were, it was crucial to make time for celebrations. And if it happened to be on the weekend, breakfast in bed was guaranteed. After that, most likely a day trip of some sort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His family loved celebrations: birthdays and holidays and anniversaries. because as his mother liked to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s life if we’re not enjoying it to the fullest?</span>
  </em>
  <span> And that apparently, meant looking for happiness in every nook and cranny, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>there’s never harm in having more.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there was a tradition concerning birthdays between his sister and him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Starting from some time during elementary school, his sister Komaru had started reading shoujo manga. It had probably begun as a trend in her group of friends at school, but soon enough, she was reading anything she could get her hands on. She bought all the monthly shoujo magazines her allowance could afford, and followed every installment with an intense passion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was this one year when she gave him a volume of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Bomb Inside Her </span>
  </em>
  <span>for Makoto’s birthday as a gag gift.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should try it.” She urged him, and well, a gift was a gift, so he made sure to read it in detail.</span>
</p>
<p><span>It turned out to be a pretty entertaining story, and Makoto found himself flipping page after page. Before he’d noticed, he’d gone through the entire volume, and was asking Komaru for the continuation, so really, wasn’t this whole thing a ploy to con Makoto into buying more shoujo manga</span> <span>for her? (“Is it working?” Makoto felt the obligated need to glare at her when Komaru asked the question innocuously. His sister had planned this from the start, and it was a beautiful execution.)</span></p>
<p><span>And the truth was, Makoto couldn’t even get mad at her, because of how much he genuinely liked </span><em><span>The Bomb Inside Her.</span></em><span> So exactly as his sister had planned, Makoto was now a shoujo manga</span> <span>reader.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Now his weekend afternoons were filled with something else: discussions with his sister about the recent developments and reading the new chapters out loud in the living room with their dog curling at his feet. (Her favorite was </span>
  <em>
    <span>100% Snowflakeholic,</span>
  </em>
  <span> which was a pretty valid choice. It had a pretty strong storyline as well as a lovely cast of riveting characters.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a shame that shoujo manga didn’t get nearly enough credit, usually dismissed as something only teenaged girls would enjoy. Yet that is clearly not the case, seeing as it only took a quick read through Komaru’s monthly magazines to get him emotionally invested in a good handful of them then and there. Despite the plots and overarching structures being somewhat familiar to one another, he was fascinated by how each mangaka put their own twist in their stories. He couldn’t help but root for the heroines they got met with obstacle after obstacle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And what if the genre wasn’t meant to appeal to boys? Makoto thought they were perfectly fine stories, and that was that. Besides, it gave him and Komaru something to talk about, and that was better than most siblings he knew about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So after that year, it became an inside joke between them to buy each other shoujo manga-related things for the other’s birthday.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Volumes were elementary. The most common were posters or acrylic stands, and on one occasion, Makoto almost ordered a body-pillow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On his final birthday spent at home, he even received the manga panel of Shota-kun confessing to Yumi-chan printed on his cake, and Makoto had to admit that Komaru had really outdid herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The little decorative bombs are made of chocolate-coated cherries.” Komaru explained proudly, pointing at the loop around the sides.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aren’t the bombs supposed to be in Yumi-chan’s womb though?” Makoto snorted. “I don’t want to eat womb bombs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that, Komaru froze for a second, before making a face. “Ew, ew, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ew.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she shoved at him. “Why would you say that? That’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>gross</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get the other to eat the womb bombs.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>The first time he spent his birthday away from his family was during his first year at Kibougamine Gakuen. It was lonely, because he wasn’t used to being apart from his family, but it was also not lonely at all, because he was surrounded by his wonderful classmates， who baked him a cake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Correction: they </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried </span>
  </em>
  <span>to bake him a cake, but unfortunately none of them were the Super High School Level Chef (who was in a year above them, actually.), so it was a cake, but objectively not a great one. The top is slanted in a visible slope and all. It tasted quite alright though, and to think it was the collective effort of his classmates- this group of highly gifted yet distinctly socially awkward prodigies had come together to prepare a surprise for a painfully ordinary person such as himself. The moment he set foot inside the cafeteria, he was instantly greeted by a pair of crackers in his face. Confetti rained from above, and he was ambushed by an enthusiastic chorus of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Happy birthday!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Really, wasn’t this too much of a luxury?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Togami-kun didn’t seem too pleased about the cake. He kept sighing and going, “If you’d let me place an order for-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That would’ve defeated the purpose, Togami-kun!” Ishimaru-kun was quick to retort. “The point was all of us coming together and making this cake for Naegi-kun!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You better like it.” Celestia-san smiled sweetly, the type that bordered on menacing. “We spent a lot of time on it.” Back when he first entered the school, Makoto would’ve been intimidated by that smile, but now he only felt an affectionate familiarity. It was simply Celestia’s only smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And besides, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> like the cake. He liked it a lot, in fact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s cut the cake already!” Kuwata-kun prompted. “We’ve got just the thing!” He snapped his fingers as Oowada-kun hoisted a gold-coated replica sword onto the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A sword-based sneak attack!” Hagakure-kun cheered from the background.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fukawa-san yelped in the corner. “Please tell me they’re joking.” she glared, face distorted in distaste.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have a regular kitchen knife.” Oogami-san assured him, and Asahina-san handed it to Maizono-san, who was standing by the cake. She waved him over cheerfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll cut it together.” she grinned, eyes bright with a hint of a tease. “This way, there’s no way your bad luck would act up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Boo!” Enoshima-san jeered from the other side of the room. “You just want to hold his hand!” From her side, Ikusaba-san elbowed her sister in a chastising manner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Makoto could feel his face heating up in embarrassment, but he stepped forward anyway, taking the knife with Maizono-san. Their shoulders were pressed together. Alright, so maybe it was a little more unnerving than he imagined. It wasn’t every day that you got to cut your birthday cake with a national idol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maizono-san laughed at his side. “It’s just cutting a cake. You really don’t need to be this tense, Naegi-kun.” She was messing with him, with the way she bumped into his arm lightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It also wasn’t every day that you got to cut your birthday cake with your best friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Together, they drive the blade down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His vision sizzled with black spots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Resistance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the matter?” Fujisaki-san asked. The question sounded far away, or maybe submerged in water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Makoto frowned. The cake should be made up of flour and butter and sugar, right? It didn’t look very charred, so it shouldn’t be this hard to split.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please do speed up. I haven’t eaten all day.” Yamada-kun hurried. “I’ve been looking forward to this!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Squelch.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A cake shouldn’t make that sound either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Naegi-kun.” Kirigiri-san’s voice sounded like it was right next to his ear, though she’d been across the table a second ago. “Look.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked, and felt wetness sliding down his palm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blade of the knife was buried deep in Maizono-san’s stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He screamed.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>Makoto wakes up gasping for air. There’s a hollowness in his chest that refuses to budge refuses to leave refuses to be banished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is coughing violently, saliva spewing out from the corners of his mouth, and he thinks he might puke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room is dark, and Makoto fumbles wildly for the bedside lamp switch. The light flickers on, and he remembers how to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Naegi?” Someone calls, but neither his vision nor his hearing is quite recovered yet. A cautious hand makes sure that it’s within Makoto’s view before inching closer, resting just shy of a step away from Makoto’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“May I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It registers somewhere in his mind that the question is a seek for permission. Permission for what?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, let me make that clear. May I touch your hand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah. Alright. That sounds okay. He nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hand presses against his slowly, then gently coaxes his clenched fist open, slotting in between his fingers. There were blunt stings where his nails were previously dug into his flesh. Heat travels from the firm squeeze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hinata-kun.” Makoto greets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you need water?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Water would be nice.” His scream must've lasted for a bit of a while in his sleep, because he only then feels the burn settle in back of his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A glass is pressed into his palm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. Thank you.” Makoto smiles. It’s a bit shaky, though.</span>
</p>
<p><span>The water</span> <span>is cool when it slides down his throat in a slow trickle, but Makoto is feeling anything but cool.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a dip in the bed, and Makoto recognizes that it’s from Hinata-kun sitting down next to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He swallows, then swallows again. His mouth still feels dry. “I had a nightmare.” He says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Hinata-kun says. He doesn’t ask, because he would know about nightmares. Makoto knows that Hinata-kun gets nightmares too. Part of it is his fault, so he knows. Hinata-kun wakes up screaming as well, so he knows. They have a standard operation procedure by now, so he knows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shuffles closer, and lets his head fall on Hinata-kun’s shoulder. Hinata-kun has sturdy shoulders, and they bring a great deal of comfort. “Thank you for being here.” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hinata-kun laughs. “Where else would I be? I live here too, don’t I?” He rubs a soothing rhythm into Makoto’s scalp. “You’re welcome though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hinata-kun is a really kind person.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s up with that, suddenly?” he snorts, and the petting turns into a ruffle, making Makoto’s hair fly askew. “Happy birthday, by the way. Got you a mini cake in the fridge. I know you’ve had a celebration today already, but there’s never harm in more cakes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s very on brand with the Naegi philosophy, and Makoto is hit with an abrupt surge of nostalgia.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t it past midnight already, though?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re telling me you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> want a birthday extension celebration?” Hinata-kun looks at him oddly, but a fond smile stays on his lips. “It’s your </span>
  <em>
    <span>birthday. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And seeing how hectic the past year has been, I’m sure no one would mind us sneaking a couple of hours.” He winks, and Makoto likes the way he says </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> instead of </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They’re a team, and they ought to stick together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you believe it though, being an entire year older?” Hinata-kun huffs, and he thinks he knows what that means.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It kind of feels like three.” Makoto admits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. I felt that.” Hinata-kun grips his arm. His eyes are solemn as he nods in agreement. “I felt that.” He scratches his head. “You really put it in words.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Saying that makes you sound even older.” Makoto chortles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s met with a friendly shove. “Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>face</span>
  </em>
  <span> is old.” Hinata-kun mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty sure it’s not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know that.” He beams, because this is such an incredibly mundane exchange. And if his beam is a little smug, then there’s nothing wrong with that either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want to go share your cake?” Hinata-kun asks. “We can call your friends after that, if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now this is perhaps yet another thing that other people might not understand, but Hinata-kun would know about needing assurance, needing solid proof of someone’s existence. They both have their ghosts, after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Death games are not things that can be made lightly of. There is a lingering fraction of terror that you know would trail after you for the rest of your life. They both have it, so they both know how a simple gesture of comfort can go a long long way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hinata-kun has a larger build than he does. His limbs are longer, his shoulders are wider, and his breast is fuller. The way he fits perfectly when Makoto tucks himself beside him makes him feel incredibly safe. Makoto likes feeling safe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he isn’t one to hide in fantasies, but it feels nice to pretend, just for a second, that he is a normal guy living the normal life he’s destined for, instead of being tossed in the smack middle of every mess. Here, now, the world isn’t broken. He is simply a boy who woke from a bad dream, and he hasn’t any problem that can’t be solved with cake and a call to his friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels nice to pretend, just for a second.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he says, “I can’t believe you’re going to steal half of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mini cake</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean</span>
  <em>
    <span> steal- I bought the thing!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hinata-kun splutters comically, and Makoto can’t stop the laughter from bubbling inside of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for the cake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That cake you just accused me of stealing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unless you have a second cake stuffed in the back of the freezer that I don’t know of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hinata-kun gave his head a half-hearted chop. “But I think you’ll be happy to know that we’re having an all-you-can-eat barbeque at noon. As a late birthday meal of sorts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The mere thought is making Makoto’s mouth water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the best roommate.” He says seriously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I know that.” Hinata-kun replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a very nice extended-birthday.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I love Naegi and would love to scream about him at any given moment.<br/>I also write him a whole lot on my writing blog <a href="https://aechteaseawb.tumblr.com/">here</a>.<br/>Writing notes for this story can be found <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/11XXgcrnBOqQqL3RjX6VldJ66lShoTOECBIKqTvXYIjM/edit?usp=sharing">here</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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